


(lock the doors and close the blinds, we're going for a ride)

by Anonymous



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Blood As Lube, Choking, Dark, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Emotional Manipulation, Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, Kinda, M/M, Oh also, Piglin Hybrid Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Protective Older Brothers, Sexual Coercion, Spit As Lube, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Threats of Violence, Trans Male Character, ask if you need anything more tagged, disclaimer use real lube, god bless this fandom for that idea, i think this qualifies as, im only tagging this properly because it's upsetting/a vent fic/dark, its techno fuck you, not rpf bc i don't do that nonsense, slightly canon divergent idk, the threats of rape and violence are from dream to tommy, this idea hasn't left me alone, to be clear, we are all hate smp dream
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-18
Updated: 2020-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:08:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28139691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: His stomach feels like full of ice. He wants to scream, he wants to fight and curse and get out of this, but the threat holds serious weight. He can’t do that to Tommy. At least he’s an adult, not that it makes it much better.“What’s it going to be, Technoblade?” Dream asks, tongue trailing along his ear now. It feels both disgusting and pleasant and he hates it. “You, or Tommy?”---Technoblade makes quite the sacrifice to protect Tommy.
Relationships: Clay | Dream/Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream/TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 41
Kudos: 605
Collections: Anonymous





	(lock the doors and close the blinds, we're going for a ride)

**Author's Note:**

> How do you do, fellow traumatized bastards. 
> 
> Anyway, I've been dealing with some Fuck Shit so if you don't mind, I wrote this massively venty fic. 
> 
> Disclaimers:  
> 1: This ain't RPF, because I simply Do Not do that. This is set within the storyline of the SMP.. vaguely. I took liberties.  
> 2: Please don't leave hate. This is a vent fic; I obviously don't advocate for anything like this happening. Use your head. I didn't use character tags so obviously you were looking for this.  
> 3: Nothing happens to Tommy "on screen", as it were, but it's outright said that he was raped before the fic takes place. It's mostly focused on what happens to Technoblade, but that's also an element.  
> 4: If you know who I am based on my writing style, don't say shit. I'm coping with some awful events right now and this really does help.  
> 5: If literally anything in the tags seems triggering, don't read this. Just. Exit out. You're in charge of your triggers here. I marked this as much as I could; if I missed something, tell me!  
> 6: Also, all terminology used for Techno's genitals is either vague, neutral, or masculine, with the exception of one use of the word cunt. I'm trans, so don't start shit.  
> 7: I did not edit this much, because I'm very fucking tired. If there's any major errors, you can comment them and I'll try to fix them sometime.
> 
> Anyway! With that out of the way, please enjoy this responsibly. Fic title from I Can't Decide by the Scissor Sisters.

"Get out of sight, now," Techno hisses, pushing at Tommy's shoulder. "Who knows what he'll do if he sees you." 

"I'm  _ going _ !" Tommy whispers back, trying to sound annoyed, but there's too much panic in his expression for it to work. "What are you going to do?" 

"Lie until he leaves, what do you think?" He rolls his eyes despite his own anxiety. "Stay down there and don't come up until I get you. Stay as quiet as possible." 

"Okay." He hesitates at the top of his ladder. "Techno?" 

"What?" He asks, eyes on the window. He can just see Dream over the nearest hill, and he remembers the message he was sent. 

_ I have news for you.  _

"Be careful, okay?" Tommy's voice is small. He drops down the ladder, and Techno replaces the stone hiding it with his heart in his throat. 

He makes sure everything looks as normal as possible in the house. He needs it to look like he's the only one living here, that his little brother isn't under the ground right now, probably scared and panicking out of his mind. 

It's only another few minutes before Dream knocks on the door. Techno tries not to look like he's been hovering next to it. 

"Technoblade," the masked man says pleasantly. He steps into the house without being invited, and he bites down a complaint. "How's retirement been treating you?" 

"Fine," Techno nods. There's tension in the cold air, and he's sweating from the anxiety. His hopes his twitchy ears are hidden by his hair. 

"I won't keep you from your peace for long," Dream says, hands in the pockets of his hoodie. The confidence that he portrays makes him want to punch him. "You know that Tommy was exiled, right?" 

He nods again. His eyes don't stray to where he knows he blocked Tommy into the "basement"; he knows better than that. "I was thinking about visiting him, actually." 

Dream laughs, a short, honestly intimidating sound. It isn't the usual wheeze, it's something calculated and almost evil. "Then I regret to inform you that he's  _ dead _ , Technoblade." 

Despite the fact that he knows that's untrue, his heart still jumps a little. Not a drop of his surprise shows on his face, though. "Really?" he asks. He doesn't stop the waver in his voice; to be too unaffected would be suspicious as well. "How did that happen?" 

"He must have found or made some TNT... I think the isolation of it all was starting to get to him, you know? He blew up everything he built, and then..." Dream sighs, and he takes his hand from his pocket to rub the back of his neck. "He built a tower and jumped from it. He was on his last life..." 

_ You're a lying piece of shit _ , Techno wants to say. Tommy's told him the truth of that situation; that Dream destroyed everything himself to punish the teenager for some very minor wrongdoing, and then just before committing suicide, realized it would just be giving into what he wanted. That's how he ended up living underneath Techno's home. 

Instead, he clears his throat as if trying not to cry and then sighs. "That's terrible," he says, faintly. "I... I haven't seen him in so long, I can't believe he would..." 

"I didn't want to believe it either," Dream says, patting his shoulder. "He had been struggling, though. It was difficult for him, having to be alone with no one wanting to come see him..." 

_ Because you stopped them, I’m sure _ . "I... thank you for telling me. I don't think I would have found out otherwise," he says, leaning back on the wall near the door. 

There's quiet for a minute, as Techno wipes away some actually real tears (Tommy isn't actually dead he knows this, but thinking about it is upsetting; he already lost one brother, losing another sounds like a nightmare) and Dream pats his shoulder and arm consolingly. 

He takes a deep breath and nods curtly. "Is that all you had to say?" He asks, trying to sound polite. "I'd like some time alone." 

"Of course," Dream says, turning back to the door. He's seconds away from stepping out of the house and leaving them be, when apparently, he catches on the one thing Techno had forgotten to move. 

Tommy's jacket, hanging on a hook near the door. It's Wilbur's old jacket, actually, taken over by their younger brother. It's so clearly  _ his _ , and Techno bites into his tongue so hard he tastes blood. How did he miss something so obvious? He's so stupid. 

Dream rests his hand on the doorframe. "Techno," he says. "You don't really believe Tommy is dead, do you?" His voice is almost sweet. 

"I have no reason to think you're lying," he replies. He's glad his hands are hidden by his cape-- they're curling and uncurling into fists to keep him from fidgeting like a nervous child. "Are you?" 

"Where is he, Techno." It isn't a question. He turns from the door and cocks his masked head at him, almost innocently. "Tell me." 

"He's not here," he says. His voice doesn't waver. "He's dead, isn't he?" 

"Then why is that jacket here?" Dream asks, nodding towards it. "I know he had it. He wore it all the time. To bed, even." He takes a step forward, getting closer. He's suddenly very aware that he's going to be backed into the corner next to the door if he's not careful. "Tell me where he is."

He swallows. He can't, absolutely _can't_ sell his brother out to this madman. Even if he hadn't been so mistreated by Dream, it would simply be cruel to send him back to his lonely exile. "I'm not going to tell you." 

"You know though, don't you?" He asks, stepping forward once more. Techno takes a step back instinctively. He's very close to the wall. "You've got him hiding somewhere, trying to keep him safe. He'll be safe with me, too. You don't want him hanging around here, do you? Disturbing your peace?" 

He looks up at the ceiling, trying to think quickly. The panic turns his brain into mush, really. "I don't believe for a second that you'll keep him safe, Dream." 

One more step. His back hits the wall and he bites his tongue again. That mask betrays no real emotion, but he'd dare to say Dream seems angry. "I kept him plenty safe," he says, feigning kindness. "I was the only one who visited him. The only one who gave him the time of day. You didn't, his friends didn't, his own  _ father  _ didn't." 

"You drove him to nearly commit suicide, Dream!" Techno snaps, taking his own step forward so he's closer to the masked man. His hand slides around the hilt of his sword. "I'm not telling you where he is. Not in a million years." 

Without so much as hesitating, Dream’s hands come up to wrap around his neck and his back meets the wall. The action is so abrupt that all he can do is gasp for breath and reach very uncoordinated hands up to grab at his wrists. His head cracks against the wood and it hurts so badly that sparks flash in his vision. 

“I’m very confident that I can convince you otherwise,” he says, tightening his grip around Techno’s throat. He chokes and digs manicured nails into his wrists, and has the intended effect, his hands loosening. 

“You think pain will convince me?” he gasps out, “Seriously, Dream, who do you think I am?”

Another one of those short, cruel laughs. His hands stay at his neck, but they’re almost gentle as he places his thumbs under his jaw to forcefully tilt his head up. “Who said _that_ was my plan, Technoblade?” He asks, voice lower, almost a growl. “I know pain won’t convince you. It hardly even phases you. But I know what will.” 

Techno takes a deep breath, trying to regain what was choked out of him. He doesn’t dare to speak, instead fixing his eyes on Dream’s mask and glaring as fiercely as he can. 

As soon as he catches his breath and gets his hands off his neck, he’ll take his sword and run him through with it. Cut him open from sternum to groin, like an animal. And then burn his body, like the piece of trash he is. Yeah, that sounds good-- 

“What the _fuck_ ,” he gasps out as the man’s leg presses between his thighs. The intention behind the action is clear and it makes his head spin. 

Dream moves one hand from his neck to push his mask from his face, revealing his features. Green eyes sparkle maliciously as his sharp-toothed mouth curls into a grin. He leans in closer, so he’s close to one of Techno’s twitching ears. 

“Let’s make a deal. If you can make it through this without fighting me, I’ll leave, and you can pretend I was never here. You and Tommy can go on doing  _ whatever  _ it is you’ve been doing out here.” His tongue darts out to drag across one of his earrings and he shudders at the wet, slick feeling on the sensitive flesh. “And if you don’t, I’ll go find Tommy, and I’ll  _ fuck  _ him in front of you. And then I’ll keep him to myself.” 

His stomach feels like full of ice. He wants to scream, he wants to fight and curse and get out of this, but the threat holds serious weight. He can’t do that to Tommy. At least he’s an adult, not that it makes it much better. 

“What’s it going to be, Technoblade?” Dream asks, tongue trailing along his ear now. It feels both disgusting and pleasant and he hates it. “You, or Tommy?” 

“I’m not going to let you hurt Tommy,” he mumbles, mouth feeling like it’s full of sand. “So I guess it’s me.” 

Dream’s smile is somehow _feral_ as he pulls away from his ear and forces their mouths together in a violent approximation of a kiss. He winces in pain at how Dream doesn’t seem to care that his teeth crash against his own, and tries not to gag at how aggressively he sticks his tongue into his mouth. It’s barely even a kiss; their lips hardly meet. It’s mostly just him biting at his lips and tonguing his mouth and just… it’s gross. 

Techno has never been one to be interested in romance, or even just sex. He’s only not a virgin because he got bored once and fucked some stranger on one of his travels. 

Part of it is disinterest in people in general, except for the few he deems okay-- Philza, Wilbur, Tommy… that’s pretty much it?-- and the rest, especially his disinterest in sex, has been dysphoria. He knows not a single person outside his family knows about him being trans, but it’s always reared it’s ugly head every time he’s even considered being intimate with another person. Even masturbation makes him feel sick to his stomach. 

And now he’s going to be fucked by the asshole who abused and manipulated his little brother to the point he almost killed himself, so said asshole won’t go and fuck _him_. This is… the worst possible outcome of Dream showing up. 

He thinks about Tommy’s wide-eyed concern when he disappeared below ground.  _ “Be careful, okay?” _

He wonders if he can hear this. 

He really, really hopes he can’t. 

Dream’s free hand, the one not viciously wrapped around his neck to hold him in place, drops down to remove his sword from his side. He tosses it away, and it clatters on the floor, followed by his belt. 

“You know, you’re actually really pretty,” he muses. His thumb rubs circles on the side of Techno’s throat. “All that long hair, your muscles, your eyes…” he grins and unbuttons all three buttons on his pants in quick succession. 

The compliment--  _ pretty  _ specifically-- makes his stomach turn and his face get hot. He’s not pretty. In his mind, ‘pretty’ implies femininity. And who the fuck looks at a six-foot-two piglin hybrid with battle scars, who wields a weapon like an extension of his own body, and thinks he’s  _ pretty _ ?

Apparently, Dream. 

The zipper is pulled down too, and his pants are wrestled down his hips, catching around his thighs. The waistband digs into his skin. He regrets his habit of not wearing underwear. 

“Oh,” Dream purrs, his hand moving from his stomach to between his thighs. He fixes his eyes on the wall as his fingers slide against him, dry and invasive. “Who knew that the great Technoblade has a pretty little _cunt_?” 

Techno bites down into his cheek, mouth filling with blood. The taste is morbidly comforting. “Shut the fuck up,” he says gruffly. God, this is humiliating. If he knew Tommy would be safe, he’d shove Dream away and get his sword and kill him, but he doesn’t know if Dream is bluffing or if he’ll actually find Tommy and… 

A finger, oddly soft and smooth for a man so violent, shoves inside of him, and he can’t help the groan of pain. He’s completely dry, because who the fuck would get turned on in this situation? Even though the heel of Dream’s hand is pressed against his dick and a finger is curled inside of him, every minute trace of arousal is immediately quelled by disgust and a stomach-turning nausea. 

_ I’m only doing this because I want to keep Tommy safe. I’m only doing this because I want to keep Tommy safe. I’m only doing this because I  _ **_need_ ** _ to keep Tommy **safe** _ \--

“This isn’t working, huh,” Dream says, pulling his hand away. He almost sighs in relief. 

The hand on his throat moves to grab at his hair, entangling above his braid, and he’s dragged to the floor. He groans, but he doesn’t dare fight it. Dream was right; this is far more convincing than fighting him. He’s laid out on his back on the cobblestones, the hand returning to his neck to keep him there. 

Dream settles himself between his legs after wrestling his pants down to his ankles, caught by his boots, leaning heavily forward so their hips are pressed together. “Alright, maybe this will be better.” He tilts his head with a cool smile and squeezes his neck. “Open your mouth, will you?” 

It isn’t a request. It’s an order. Techno follows it, having an idea what will happen. 

Just as he thought, Dream pushes a pair of fingers into his mouth and presses them against his tongue. He tries not to gag. “Get them nice and wet, because they’re going inside of you next.” 

He follows this order, too. It’s disgusting, and humiliating, and again he hopes that Tommy can’t hear. The sound of his tongue sliding around Dream’s fingers, hurriedly trying to coat them in saliva, is obscene and loud in the quiet house. 

“Who would think you’d be so obedient?” Dream asks, pushing his fingers in a little deeper just to hear him gag and choke around them. His nails scrape at his mouth and the top of his throat. He looks very pleased as he practically fucks his mouth with his fingers. He even moves the hand on his neck to his hair, holding the back of his head to keep him in place. Distantly, he thinks that it’s going to be hell to untangle his hair.

_ Bite his fingers off _ , the voices scream.  _ Bite them clean off and spit his own blood into his eyes. Break his stupid mask over his own head and kill him so he can’t hurt you or Tommy or anyone else! _

He doesn’t dare follow their commands. Dream is being… almost gentle, for now. He knows if he reacts like that, he’ll put himself and Tommy in far more immediate danger. 

He can handle being assaulted. He cannot handle his brother being fucked in front of him. Tommy’s already so traumatized; he can hardly handle gentle, _platonic_ touch, this would absolutely break him. 

The fingers are pulled from his mouth, dripping, and immediately shoved into him. Even though they’re wet, they pull and tug at his flesh. He shudders and tilts his head back against the floor. There’s saliva dripping down his chin and cheeks. He thinks his eyes might be teary. 

“Good boy, Techno,” Dream praises in a purr, leaning down to kiss his cheek. “Maybe you’ll make it through this. You’re keeping your composure so well, I’m impressed.” 

“Just biding my time until I can rip your head off,” he says through gritted teeth. The praise did… something to him, though. The feeling in his stomach is less twisting anxiety and fear and disgust and is instead something slightly warmer. 

“Sure you are,” he chuckles, and he crooks his fingers inside of him. 

The small shock of genuine pleasure makes him flinch, his stomach lurching. His mouth falls open, in what isn’t quite a moan but is definitely some kind of sound. 

“Are you a virgin?” Dream asks bluntly. 

He closes his mouth and grits his teeth again. “No,” he answers truthfully, because he refuses to let Dream believe he’s doing something like taking his virginity. Not that he particularly believes in the concept, but still. 

“Mmmhm,” Dream hums disbelievingly. His fingers press up against that spot again and he has to close his eyes against the pleasure, especially as his thumb rubs up against his cock. 

Fuck, that actually feels good. Some of the wetness on him isn’t just his own spit anymore. Fuck, he’s actually-- physically at least-- getting turned on. 

He thinks dying would probably hurt less. 

That tongue drags along his ear again, saliva cooling rapidly in the air, and then his lips close around one of his earrings, tugging at the golden piercing, just as his hair is pulled almost gently. He doesn’t know why that feels good, but he gasps and his hips jerk against his own will. 

Shame fills him immediately. He shouldn’t be enjoying this. He’s only doing this to keep Tommy safe. He’s only doing this to keep himself safe. 

“It’ll hurt less if you let yourself enjoy it,” Dream warns against the shell of his ear, pressing a third finger into him. The fact that it hurts makes him a little comforted that he isn’t completely falling open to him. 

He fucks him on his fingers for what feels like forever and a second at the same time, before withdrawing them and wiping them on his thigh. He shudders. 

“Oh, I made you bleed. Whoops.”

His stomach flips again. “You _what_?” 

“I guess I was too rough,” Dream chuckles. “Don’t worry, it’s not a lot. You’ll live.” 

Techno looks down at his thigh, where he wiped his fingers, and sure enough, there’s diluted blood on his skin, looking very stark compared to how pale he is. His heart is in his fucking throat. 

He tilts his head back against the floor and tries to breathe evenly. He can’t have a panic attack or go into a rage right now. He can’t. He can’t, it’ll just put him in more danger and Dream will probably just get off on it. 

Speaking of. 

The blunt head of his cock presses against him, feeling-- intimidatingly large, okay-- and it hurts like hell going in. Compared to Dream’s lithe fingers, it feels like a lot. Heavy and hot and-- 

He thrusts in fully and Techno lets out a small, weak moan, the sound punched from him. He knows, logically, that it isn’t true, but he feels like he can feel him in his stomach. Fuck, it hurts, like someone is twisting a hot knife inside of him. He wants to cry. He might already be.

Dream laughs, cutting it off with a moan. “Fuck, you’re  _ tight _ . Feels  _ amazing _ .” 

The praise is just about where he starts dissociating. He stares up the ceiling and wishes he could melt between the planks, disappear entirely. But-- no, that wouldn’t work. Because then Tommy would be vulnerable and alone and it wouldn’t take Dream long to figure out that he’s below the house. 

He just has to survive this. He can barely feel anything anymore, except for a painful pressure inside of him when Dream thrusts all the way into him. It’s… terrible, but it’s bearable. He’s been through worse. 

He thinks he might be able to escape into his own head until the man on top of him thumbs his cock and starts mouthing at his piercings again. He digs his fingers into the floor, because it feels good-- fuck, it feels really good.

Think about anything else.  _ Anything _ . 

_ Now would be a terrible time for Philza to show up _ , he thinks. Or maybe it’s a good time; he wouldn’t let this happen to him. The only reason he and Tommy haven’t tried to save him is because he’s one-hundred percent convinced he’ll get himself out. Because he’s completely capable of it.

(Tommy had joked they’re going to get a call to come get him any time, because “he’s fucking scary, Techno” and that had made him laugh harder than he had in a while.) 

He indulges in the idea of being saved as Dream fucks his mostly unresponsive body. It’s easy to ignore the touches and the tongue that traces his piercings and sensitive ears when he thinks about his dad coming in the door, armed to the teeth, large wings spread out behind him. The Angel of Death, coming to rescue his sons. 

(He would kill Dream, obviously. He would do it viciously, with no remorse, and he would throw out his useless body. 

And then he would bring Techno and Tommy into his arms and hold them, soothing their pain and heartbreak and fear. He would let his wings, warm from flight, rest over them like blankets, and they would cry, but Philza would make it _better_ …)

It’s easy until Dream digs his fingers into his throat again, not quite choking but uncomfortable, and says, with a smirk like a monster, “You know, I fucked Tommy like this.” 

“What?” Techno asks, snapped back to reality, fantasy forgotten. His stomach twists with a hot amalgamation of pain and pleasure and disgust. 

“I fucked him,” he says, grinning now, panting through it. “And he cried and cried and  _ cried _ . You should have heard him  _ scream _ , Techno.” 

His heart hurts. He curls his hands into fists to keep from sending them into Dream’s face.

He’s bluffing. He has to be bluffing. He wouldn’t… no, Tommy would have told him, if Dream did that. 

_ He might not remember,  _ his mind helpfully supplies.  _ He could have dissociated, like you tried to. Dream could be telling the truth.  _

“I think he was better, honestly,” he continues, “I liked the screaming. He begged too, for me to stop and for someone to save him. Over and over again. He asked for so many people…” His hand splays out on his stomach and feels at the muscles while he shoves into him, again and again and again. He’s getting rougher, more uncoordinated. “He asked for _you_. Screamed, really.”

“Shut up, shut up, _shut up_ ,” he gasps, feeling his eyes wells with tears that roll down his cheeks. “You’re lying.” 

“Sure, go ahead and believe that, if it helps,” Dream says, falsely polite. 

He kisses Techno’s cheek and pulls back, his hand settling more firmly on his neck and his thrusts getting slightly more erratic. His green eyes are half-lidded and sparkle with cruel pride as his mouth falls open with a groan. “Fuck, you feel so good. So tight and hot around me…” 

Techno wants to scream. He wants to scream until his throat bleeds. Dream isn’t lying. Something about his expression shows nothing but confidence and seriousness in the horrible act he’s committed. Fuck, fuck, fuck-- 

His brain goes blank for a minute in response to the shock of realizing the truth. Dream raped Tommy. Dream is in the process of raping him, or at the very least assaulting him-- he said yes, technically, but it was under a threat, so does it count? He’s not sure. He can’t think. 

Dream pins him to the floor with both hands on his throat, thrusts so deep inside of him that he  _ definitely  _ feels him in his stomach, and cums inside of him.

When he’s finally back to reality, after everything went dark-- because it was just too much-- he’s left on the ground, legs spread pathetically, blood and spit and cum smeared across his lower body, tears pooled in his ears, soaked into his hair. He can’t breathe, even though Dream’s hands are gone. 

“Well, fair is fair, Technoblade,” Dream says pleasantly, leaning over him, mask back on. “You handled that very well, and you were a great fuck.” He pats his head affectionately and gets up. “Have fun with Tommy.” 

Techno stares at the ceiling and doesn’t say anything. His brain feels fuzzy from adrenaline and asphyxiation and fear.

Dream leaves. And still he stares. 

(At least he can’t get pregnant. Fuck, that would be infinitely worse, if he could. But hybrids are infertile; he couldn’t conceive if he wanted to. Small miracles.)

He manages to get up. Re-dresses himself, after attempting to get clean. His crown fell off at one point, and there’s a little bloodstain on his pristine blue cape. He wants to cry again, but his brain is still lagging behind, so he can’t. 

He takes down his braid. There’s a fairly bad knot in his hair now. He’ll brush it later. 

He puts on his crown, trying to feel normal. 

His throat aches from being choked. His head aches from colliding with the wall and being pressed to the floor and from crying. His groin aches from being fucked. He’s one big ache.

Techno destroys the stones hiding Tommy’s ladder, and he croaks out, “You can come up now.” 

Immediately, his brother is scrambling up the ladder, pale and sweaty and looking horrified. “Techno?” he says, sounding like he’s been crying the whole time. “Oh, god, what did he do to you?” 

He slumps against the wall and slides to the floor. His legs feel like jelly. Everything hurts. “Get me a healing potion,” he says, avoiding the question. “Please, I don’t think I can stand.” 

“Right, yeah, okay!” Tommy hurries to his own feet and runs to get him the requested potion, and he kneels next to him while he drinks it. “What did Dream do? I heard him talking, and I heard… you  _ crying _ , and some other stuff, but I don’t…”

Techno downs the potion in three drinks. The warmth that spreads through him eases the pain, the ache, but without the ache, he can really feel how disgusting his body feels. God, he needs a bath. “Tommy, did Dream ever…” his tongue feels thick. Everything feels like a nightmare. “Did he rape you, Tommy?” 

Tommy’s blue eyes go wide and he slumps back, sitting heavily on his knees. He somehow goes paler. “D-did he tell you?” He asks, voice squeaky. “Why would he…?” 

Something seems to click. He covers his mouth and stares at him with tears running down his face.

Techno fixes his eyes on the ceiling again, and he stares.  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Take care of yourself. Know if you're a survivor of anything like this, it wasn't your fault and you're not alone.
> 
> Thank you for reading.
> 
> Edit: I'll only be replying to certain comments, but please do know that all of them are cherished.


End file.
